


The Properties of Sound

by Solovei



Category: Stand Still Stay Silent
Genre: Fluff, Language Barrier, M/M, Nightmares, Queerplatonic Relationships, Singing, Song Lyrics
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-16
Updated: 2015-03-16
Packaged: 2018-03-18 05:10:01
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 584
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3557222
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Solovei/pseuds/Solovei
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Emil has never really been into music, but somehow this felt different.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Properties of Sound

In his dream that night, Emil saw it again, that gaping mouth with rows upon rows of teeth stretching on forever above him; it was impossible to look away. He wanted to scream, but couldn't - the sound caught in his throat, lodged in there like a fishbone that scraped painfully with every gasping breath.The blood kept dripping down his face and he felt as though he was drowning. Somehow through the paralysis of fear Emil managed to feel for his knife, his charges, anything. But his hands went right through them, as if it were air, as if he was dead already. Finally the troll above him lunged, and the cry inside his lungs burst forth, painfully, tearing through sinew and bone --

He woke up with a start, eyes darting around in the darkness. It wasn’t long before he felt the weight on his chest, saw light blue eyes dimly glowing in the dark. A hand reached out to straighten the damp hair away from his face, carefully, as though it was handling a small animal. Emil coughed, breathing heavily. “Sorry, I… I had a bad dream…”

At this point he was a little more awake and could take stock of the situation more clearly, including the fact that Lalli was currently sitting on top of him; the others seemed to be fast asleep. Once he adjusted his breathing accordingly, the weight felt good in an odd way; he was glad it was dark and nobody would see the faint blush spreading behind his skin.   
“Um… it was about that troll…” the blonde teenager whispered. “Th-the one I blew up today… I guess you didn’t see it, but… it was big.” The scout kept stroking his cheek, and he leaned his head into the touch, smiling faintly. Something about this moment seemed to invite quiet, but he felt he had to explain himself, even as he felt silly for speaking.

Lalli said something in Finnish that Emil did not understand, though his tone seemed concerned, empathetic. There was a quiet shuffle of fabric as the scout climbed off his chest and lay down beside Emil on the narrow bunk, placing a hand on his head. The closeness only led him to blush deeper. How strange, he thought - he had been through so much danger with this person in the few short days they’ve known each other, but this... this made him more nervous than any of it. He was caught by surprise when Lalli began singing, softly, quietly:

_“Heilani on mun vierahalla maalla ja kuinkahan sen aika kuluu_

_Vaikka minä oon näin hulivilipoika niin välihin voittaa suru”_

Emil wished he could understand the words, but they didn’t sound like any language he was familiar with. The melody, even, felt different, invoked something of a lonely forest. He has never really been into music, but somehow this song felt different. It wasn't like the stuff they played  on the radio in Mora or the songs you would sing with your friends when you were drunk, this meant something.

_“Kaikenlasia kukkia kasvaa sinisiä vaan vähä_

_en oo saanu pitkähän aikahan heilani silmiä nähhä...”_

The sound of Lalli’s voice had a strange effect on him - Emil found he could no longer remember the dream he just had, or even the lingering fear regarding the troll itself. Everything seemed to be just out of reach, but he didn’t feel bad about it. It was gone and that was okay, he thought as he drifted to sleep again.

 

**Author's Note:**

> The song Lalli sings is "Heila" by Hednigarna. Here's the English translation, courtesy of LyricsWiki:
> 
> My true love is far gone to foreign countries  
> and I wonder what she'll be doing  
> Although I am just such a rascal youngster  
> sometimes my heart is grieving.
> 
> All kinds of flowers grow in the fields  
> but only a few of the blue ones  
> I haven't now for a long time been able  
> to see the sweet eyes of my true love.


End file.
